It hit Peter three days later.

It was a Tuesday morning, Peter had gotten up later since he wasn't due back to school for another week. The tired teen had stumbled into the kitchen, Tony Stark sitting at the island with the one and only Pepper Potts behind the stove. The smell of waffles and sizzling bacon wafted through the air, making Peter's mouth water. He sat down next to his mentor.

"Good morning. How you feelin', bud?" Tony asked, ruffling the teen's hair.

Peter shrugged, not really sure. He'd expected himself to be bedridden with depression at this point, but somehow he was still functioning.

"I'm okay," he said and went to elaborate when Pepper screeched.

"Pep, you okay?!" Mr. Stark exclaimed, hopping up from his seat to his fiancé. Pepper nodded hastily.

"I-I'm fine," She panted, turning off the stove. "I just burned myself, that's all. And I'm sorry Peter, i also burned your waffles. I can make more if you want?" Mrs. Potts addressed Peter, her right hand red and blistering.

Peter shook his head. "No, no! It's fine. If anything, I'm used to burnt waffles. Aunt May always burns them.." the teen trailed off, his mind going blank.

Oh.

  Peter looked down at the table, all his energy leaving his body, making it an effort to even breathe. Oh god, he thought, the smell of burning food suddenly making him feel sick. This can't be happening.

  But it already did.

Tony watched realization slap Peter Parker in the face and waited for the teen to crumble, to fall apart, to finally break. It had been an unsteady couple of days, waiting for Aunt May's death to hit the young boy. Now that it was happening, Tony felt like he could finally breathe. No more walking on eggshells, he thought.

Peter felt like he going to throw up, the stench of burnt breakfast making his stomach churn sickly. He breathed heavily through his mouth, fighting both bile and tears.

"..I-I'm gonna g-go get dressed," he choked out, pushing off the island and fleeing to his bedroom.

Tony watched him go in quiet disbelief. Huh, he thought to himself as he got up to help Pepper bandage her blistering hand. Maybe he really was expecting this, after all.

***

  Peter just barely made it to his on suite before he vomited. He lunged for the toilet, gagging and dry-heaving until his throat and stomach ached. When he finally felt like he was finished, he laid his head down on the toilet seat and focused on breathing.

When Uncle Ben had died, Peter had locked in his room for days. He didn't eat, drink, or even leave his bed. He remembered feeling so incredibly guilty, thinking he deserved to starve, to just rot in his bed. And when he'd emerged a week later, he looked like he had rotted.

Aunt May had made him promise to never do that again, or at least never do it alone.

It's almost like she knew.

Peter swallowed down the sob rising in his throat, forcing himself to stand. He gripped the edge of the sink for balance, bracing himself to walk.

I need to get out of here, he thought as he made his way back into the main part of the bedroom. Once he reached the bed, he sat down and took a look around for anything to get his mind off Aunt May.

That's when he spotted his red and blue spandex cast over his desk chair.

Even if New York doesn't need Spider-man, Peter Parker sure does, Peter thought to himself, swiping the suit off the chair and slipping into it before leaping out the window.

***

  Peter clambered up the side of Avengers Tower, the slightly polluted New York air filling his lungs. Ahh, he thought, mechanical eyes expanding as he looked over the city. This is exactly what i needed.

  "Peter, there is a reported robbery on 124th street. Shall i enter coordinates?" Karen's voice came through. Peter nodded, already webbing himself across the city.

  "Let's do this Karen."

Peter followed Karen's directions, finding himself in front of a tiny bakery. He swung down, inspecting the shop. The front window was smashed, glass shards everywhere, and the door was blown to the side. Peter doubted the robbers were still around.

"Karen, scan for personnel," Peter said, waiting patiently as Karen did a scan of the scene.

"Two robbers were reported here 2 minutes and 33 seconds ago. Both were wearing rubber animal masks and had weapons. Identification unclear," Karen reported back.

Peter tapped his foot anxiously. Okay, he thought, looking around. If i was a robber, where would i go?

It's always helpful when a police car goes by, though, isn't it?

And thank you, God himself! Peter mentally celebrated as he quickly shot webs to keep up with the speeding cop cars.

Peter thrived off the rush, his body swinging through the air, a plan on how to take down the suspects already forming in his brain. Although it had only been like five days, he really missed being the friendly neighborhood spider-man.

  Peter swung after the police cars for about four blocks, until they stopped abruptly by an alleyway. Peter flipped down on the roof of one of the cars, scanning the area for the suspects.

  "Heat signature detected," Karen said, a blob of red popping up before Peter's eyes. "They appeared to be armed."

  No shit, the vigilante thought, his sensitive hearing picking up on the sound of a gun being loaded and cocked.

  Peter leaped down to the ground, his body hitting the concrete as he rolled up onto his feet. "Get down!" he cried to the police men emerging from their cars. "They're armed-"

  Just then a shot rang out.

  Peter's entire body tingled, his skin lighting on fire. He turned, sight zoning in on a bullet cutting through the air, aimed right at his chest-

  "Move!" A familiar voice shouted before a body slammed into Peter with the force of a charging rhino.

Spider-man hit the opposite wall at the end of the alley before falling into a dumpster beneath him. He groaned, laying among the trash for a moment before pulling himself to his feet. He popped his head over the top of the metal dumpster, eyes twitching.

"Karen! What the heck was that?!" The superhero exclaimed, hitting his palm against the side of his head to knock his mechanical eyes back to normal.

"That was Ironman," Karen answered, with only a bit of sass.

"Oh shit."

"Getting dressed, were we, Spider-man?" Ironman's cold, mechanic voice came from the far end of the dumpster, making Peter quiver in his striped spandex.

Ironman fired up his repulsers, taking down both robbers in a matter of seconds before turning his undivided attention to the young vigilante.

"Well, you certainly look dressed," Ironman sneered, anger dripping from his words. He straightened, his metal face mask falling away to reveal an even angrier expression. Peter didn't dare move. He would gladly stay in the trash can, thank you very much.

Tony scoffed. "Get your ass over here, Spider-man."